"Even After the Glitter Fades": Dating as a Ph.D.

“You know, the man of my dreams might walk round the corner tomorrow. I'm older and wiser and I think I'd make a great girlfriend. I live in the realm of romantic possibility.”

©     Stevie Nicks

Five years ago, as I contemplated which grad school to go to, I did a little bit of research. Not the kind of research that involves looking at the school’s English program or the type of instructors that taught there or even how reputable the place was—no, I researched the dating life of a grad student. I stumbled upon blogs and wikis dedicated to dating life in grad school, and as I sat reading through the threads, a tiny black cloud burst upon my head: the consensus was dating in grad school sucked. I combed through more and more threads sure that this was wrong—how could it be so hard to date in grad school? There would be boys, ahem, men there. There’d be a whole new city to explore. Yet every blog and wiki said the same thing. Shaking my head in defiance, I declared that would not be the case for me—I would find a way to date, and date a lot, throughout grad school.

Decision made, I set out to truly figure out what grad school to attend. One day, I was walking to grab coffee with my mentor when he said he had advice for me,

“Don’t get married in grad school.”

“Uh, ok??”

“No, seriously. Don’t get married in grad school. Don’t go there to date.”

“Um….”

The black cloud returned above my head, just what was it with dating in grad school? Could people really not multi-task within their lives?

Needless to say, advice and research aside, I survived grad school having found a way to mostly mingle my dating life and my academic life. Though as I made my way through the program, one thing did become crystal clear: men don’t tend to like hard-core women. You know, the women that are smart, perhaps slightly aggressive in their take-charge personalities, and marginally competitive. Personally, I hate the term “hard-core woman”—it makes me shudder and squirm—but I’ve heard the term two or three times…maybe even thrown my general way. But, what is so wrong with a woman with direction? A woman with goals? A woman who knows her mind and isn’t afraid to share it? I didn't/don’t get it.

Several months ago, I was at a bar with a guy friend and no one was there but the bartender and the two of us. The bartender was totally cute, so I shamelessly flirted with him. He flirted back. We played the get-to-know you game:

Cute Bartender: “What do you do?”

Kt: “I’m a professor.”

Long pause.

Cute bartender: “I’m sorry, but what exactly do you profess?”

Kt: (inward sigh—I hate that question) “I teach writing.”
Cute bartender: "Oooh, you mean like creative writing? Like poetry."

Friend butts in: “You shouldn’t tell people that you’re a professor.”

Kt: “Excuse me?!? Why not?"

Cute bartender: (laughs) “Yea, I wouldn’t mention that either. No one wants to know that you are a (pause for dramatic effect) D.o.c.t.er.”
Kt: "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG AND HARD IT IS TO BECOME A PROFESSOR?” (clenched teeth)

Friend: “Dude! No guy wants to know that you have a Ph.D. Seriously. Leave it out.”

Kt: “You guys are ridiculous. And I teach composition--you know there are other kinds of writing. I try and teach student how to..."

Cute bartender: (jumps in totally ignoring the writing comment) “You’re friend has a point—I wouldn’t tell people you have a Ph.D, especially not guys.”

Kt exits to the bathroom before the conversation turns ugly.

Long after the conversation had ended, it still haunted me. Could this be true, I wondered? Is this part of the whole anti-hard-core woman thing? Men don’t want someone who has a higher degree than them or may be as smart or smarter?

Around the same time a different friend suggested I join an online dating website. I have always rejected the idea of online dating because it just seemed so stale, but I thought ok, why not. Five hours after sitting through e-harmony’s painfully long process, I had an online profile. Before it went public, my fingers lingered above the keys as the conversation from bar teased within my thoughts: do I put I have a Ph.D? Do I put that I’m a professor? Inwardly I was cringing that I even thought these thoughts, so I put down: Kara, Ph.D. Professor of Writing. There, I thought, take that cute bartender! I am Kt, Ph.D. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

After getting only two invitations for "guided communication"--one of which looked much older than his professed 38 years of age and the other looking his 36, but still seeming too old for me--the conversation returned to haunt me. What, I wondered, was wrong with my profile? 

About a month into e-harmony, I was talking with my mom on the phone when I wondered out loud if the cute bartender was right: did my Ph.D and status as a professor mark me in some way? Ever the one to try out some research, I updated my profile: education, “some college”;  job, “education”; and I took out all my sassy comments and made my profile as minimal as could be.

1 day later: the traffic on my profile tripled, the number of “guided communication”

requests from men doubled, and suddenly men who I had sent “guided communication” weeks ago responded. No lyin’. Suddenly without the Ph.D. or the professor attached to my profile, it had become more desirable to men. I was torn between amusement and disgust at the cute bartender and friend who apparently had a point. I was more desirable to these nameless men without my Ph.D. or declaring that I was a professor.

Thus, five years after initially not believing the blogs and wikis, I think they might have been onto something. Dating in general is hard—we all know this—but dating as someone with a higher degree is much harder than without one. And perhaps dating as a woman who has her Ph.D. is harder still.

I love the Stevie Nicks quote that opened this post because deep down or perhaps not that deep, I’m a romantic at heart. Maybe the man of my dreams is around the next corner. Maybe it’s time I switch my profile back to Kt, Ph.D. and let the profile views fall as they may.  And maybe it’s time to re-stomp on the black rain cloud and live in the realm of romantic possibility and resume loudly declaring, Kara Taczak, Ph.D. Professor of Writing...I’d make a great girlfriend. ;-)

The Campus Interview

The Campus Interview: a 15 hour Date

Imagine: you’ve just landed a date with someone you’ve had your eye on for some time now. He’s smart and funny with sexy bedroom eyes, and he doesn’t mind a hard-core woman. He tells you he’ll pick you up at 9… am that is for a nice leisurely breakfast. Fast-forward to 9 pm. The date is still going strong; your real smile faded four hours ago sometime before dinner began. You're fidgeting because the boots you have on have lost their comfort appeal and now are just causing a blister (whoever said flats don't cause blisters...lied). Now he’s offering you slow-roasted coffee and lavender ice cream (who can turn down lavender ice cream?!?), and it takes all of your will not to massage the dull ache in your neck (don’t want to give away that tension has built up!). Finally he smiles and asks if you are ready to go (mentally you break out your best running man), you smile (your first real smile in five hours) and say you've had fabulous day and you can’t imagine where the day has gone.

The campus interview is unlike any interview you have ever done, and it seems very much like a day-long date because of its date-like qualities: questions about yourself, dinner that includes dessert, and coffee (and how do you like your coffee). You also dress in your best (conservative but respectful; trendy but not too over the top), constantly check your breath, re-apply lip gloss (or chapstick since traveling tends to dry out your lips), and don’t ever over-eat in front of the other party. You ask personal, yet appropriate, questions. You listen attentively and smile and smile and smile and smile. Smiling, as we all know from experience, is key in establishing personal relationships because they are very revealing. Pay attention to the smiles. ;-)

Something that is not date-like (or if it is that’s just creepy and don’t tell anyone you do it)—researching your "date" so that you know them/it inside and out. I have gone into the campus interviews knowing what the other faculty members look like, what they teach, what and where their degrees are from, and really anything else I can pull from a quick Google search. Once I mentioned that a person had gotten her hair cut and she looked at me funny and said “how did I know that?” (Oops. Gave myself away.)

And don’t kid yourself: it’s as mentally challenging as it is physically challenging. The hardest part is you have to be “on” for such a long time your “on” can get jilted, wilted, and winded...

Your smile wavers a bit. Your handshake is not as firm as it was ten hours ago. You drink one too many Dt. Cokes so that now your chest muscles quiver from ingesting so much caffeine. You might even forget how to pronounce your last name (totally true—one of my campus interviews I must have got caught up in the moment…). You blank on what side of Ohio you hail from (I apparently have many issues with the difference between east and west directions). You learn you have an accent that gives away that you hail from northeastern Ohio (who knew?!?). And most importantly, you might even begin to doubt your research even makes sense because you’ve said it so many times to so many different people in so many different ways. Transfer/Reflection--what??

The campus interview is as much of a whirlwind romance as the first date can be. They show you their best; you show them yours.

As you are there you have lots to take in—the people, the school, the program/department, the city, the food, the culture. You have to try and decide in that two day experience if the job is offered: can you imagine yourself there—working, teaching, living, and playing.

Sometimes when the morning after arrives and the date...er...faculty member picks you up for your ride to the airport; you stumble into the car with your hair piled on top of your head, glasses on, barely a lick of make-up, and it feels like each of you are deciding: should there be a second date? And honestly you are as much a part of that decision as the person driving you toward home.